While the burning sky is lighting up what lies beyond smoke and flames, I'm marching to the sound of sirens calling my name singing songs of easing pain.
Seeking the essence.
Searching for God.
There is no substance.
Feelings converge.
Left alone under a hideous moon.
Clawing for grace among the doomed.
We're cursed to live until we die.
At least this world is good from time to time.
Still it's burning, I'm as cold as ice.
Got the deep desire to be held tight.
This is the great decay.
We were born in flames, we are our own slaves, we dig our own graves.